


Wrong Side of the Tracks : Prologue 2 - Kadar, November 2013

by Moondreamer



Series: Wrong Side of the Tracks [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Au in which Malik and Altair own a parkour school and Kadar and Maria are friends, M/M, Parkour School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moondreamer/pseuds/Moondreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kadar receives a distressing phone call in the middle of the night...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Side of the Tracks : Prologue 2 - Kadar, November 2013

**Author's Note:**

> Second prologue to Wrong Side of the Tracks. I put both prologues as separate works as they're not necessary to the reading of the main story, which I should hopefully start posting soon.

__  
**Cambridge, November 2013**  


Kadar woke up with a start, at first uncertain of what exactly had woken him up. It wasn’t until his cell phone vibrated again that he realized it must have been ringing for a while now. Still half-asleep, he cursed under his breath. Who the hell was calling him at—he checked his bedside clock—2h30 in the morning? It better not be his roommate, too drunk to return home after one of his drinking binges. He had an important exam in the morning and needed his fucking sleep.

He closed his eyes and turned his back on the annoying buzzing, deciding to ignore the call and go back to sleep, but the caller was insistent. The phone buzzed and buzzed, and wouldn’t stop. Finally, Kadar cursed and crawled out of bed to grab it from his desk. Surprisingly, the number on the caller ID wasn’t his roommate's but Altair’s, his brother’s boyfriend. A shiver of dread ran up Kadar’s spine, which he he tried to squash. Why was Altair calling at this hour of the night?

Had something happened to Malik? Surely not.

He swiped the screen and put the phone to his ear, grumbling, “This better be important.”

“Kadar?” Altair’s voice sounded strained, on the verge of breaking, and Kadar’s heart dropped. He didn’t feel sleepy anymore.

“Altair, what’s wrong? Why are you calling at this hour? Is it… is it Malik?”

Altair’s gulp was audible even through the phone. “It’s Malik,” he confirmed.

“What happened?”

He couldn’t be dead, could he?

“There was an accident. He was hit by a drunk driver while walking back home from the gym, the police told me. I’m at the hospital right now, but I don’t know…” He took a shaky breath. “They won’t tell me about his condition, as I’m not family and we’re not married. I know he’s in surgery right now but…” There was a long silence, and then, Altair repeated, “I don’t know.”

Kadar’s hands began to shake. Malik had always been his anchor. The idea of his big brother lying in a hospital bed, or under the surgeon’s knife… Or worse— No. He couldn’t think that way. He had to calm down. With both their parents refusing to even recognize they had an older son named Malik anymore—not since he’d come out of the closest to them—Kadar was the only family his brother had left. “Ok... Ok. If I leave for the airport immediately, I can be in St. Louis by this afternoon,” he thought out loud. He could probably get some last minute tickets, although it would certainly cost him most, if not all, of his meager savings.

“No!” Altair protested. “I didn’t call you so you could abandon school to come here.”

“You think I’m going to leave Malik alone?” He paused, then cursed, “ _Wallahi, Altair!_ I’m not going to let him go through this on his own. And then I’m his brother; the doctors will talk to me. M.I.T. can wait ‘til I’m sure Malik is going to be fine.”

“Kadar,” Altair whispered into the phone. Then, “Thank you.”

“Hang in there. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Now, which hospital are you at?”

“Barnes Jewish, downtown.”

Kadar fumbled around his desk until he could find a piece of paper to write the information down. By then his hands shook so much his handwriting was nearly illegible, but he didn’t care.

“I’ll call you when I get to the airport,” he said before hanging up.

His exam forgotten, Kadar threw the first few changes of clothes he found into an old sports bag and left his dorm room. Hopefully, finding a taxi at this hour wouldn’t be impossible…

*****

__  
**St. Louis, the same day**  


At 6pm that night, Kadar finally arrived at the hospital. He hadn’t slept at all since Altair’s phone call, kept awake by his worry about his brother’s condition. According to his last conversation with Altair, Malik was out of surgery but had yet to regain consciousness. That was all the doctors would tell Altair though, so he had no other details, not even the reason for the surgery. He also had not been allowed to see Malik yet, and Kadar knew this bothered Altair more than he wanted to admit.

After asking a nurse for directions, Kadar found his way to the ICU’s waiting room. There, he found Altair sitting on one of the uncomfortable chairs lining the walls. Shoulders slumped, head bowed into his hands, wearing a rumpled hoodie, jeans and mismatched socks, he looked about ready to collapsed.

“Altair,” Kadar called out to him as he got closer, and Altair slowly looked up. When he caught sight of Kadar, he smiled wanly. “Any more news?”

Altair shook his head. “I told them you were coming. The doctor said she’d come to talk to you once you did. They still won’t tell me anything, though.”

Kadar nodded at his evident frustration. “I know.” Then, he sighed. “I called our parents. I had hoped they would come but…” He shrugged helplessly. Altair understood. He knew the situation well.  
“They didn’t. Of course they didn’t.” Altair’s acidic tone only made Kadar feel more guilty about the way their parents were treating Malik, but he also knew he wasn’t responsible for their bigotry.

“They’ll come around. Eventually.” Empty words and Kadar knew that. Altair knew it too, but he didn’t try to argue. “What about the gym?” he asked instead.

“I shut it down it until further notice,” Altair said with a defeated shrug. 

Without any other employees to keep it running, Altair and Malik’s small parkour school would need to stay close until they could work something out. Kadar made a face. This was bad. Without students—and their money—the school wouldn’t stay afloat for long. 

At that moment, a woman in scrubs walked toward them, ending the conversation. She stopped beside them and looked at Kadar. “You must be Malik Al’Sayf’s brother?”

Kadar nodded. “I’m Kadar Al’Sayf, Malik’s younger brother. How is Malik doing?”

With a sigh that sounded weary, the doctor sat down on the chair facing Altair. Kadar stayed on his feet, too nervous to sit still. “I am doctor Lindsey McCormac, and I was the surgeon in charge of Mr. Al’Sayf,” she began. 

“How is he?” Kadar interrupted.

Dr. McCormac frowned slightly, but she had to be used to distraught family of patients, as she went on calmly, “When Mr. Al’Sayf was brought to us last night, he was unconscious due the accident. There was serious trauma to his abdomen and left side. He was brought to surgery at once to stabilize his condition as he had internal bleeding and one collapsed lung, in addition to deep open wounds on his left arm, hip and leg. No bleeding in the brain, fortunately.” She hesitated a fraction of a second before continuing. “His heart stopped twice during the procedure, but our resuscitation attempts were successful both times, and he is now in critical but stable condition.”

Kadar’s breath hissed through his teeth, and he felt the blood drain from his face. Altair looked just as shocked by the news. He muttered something under his breath that Kadar didn't quite catch. Dr. McCormac cleared her throat. “However,” she said, looking at Kadar with sympathy. “There was nothing we could do for his left arm. The impact pulverized the flesh and bones and he was bleeding abundantly. We had to amputate it over the elbow to save his life.”

This time, Kadar had to sit down. Malik’s left arm, amputated. The information couldn’t quite sink in. “Can I… can we see him?”

Doctor MacCormac nodded slightly. “Yes, but only one at a time, and only for 5 minutes each. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet, and we are keeping him under sedation for now.”

“When are you going to wake him up, then?” Altair asked, voice quaking.

“Two days, maybe slightly more, depending on his recovery rate. His medical team will keep monitoring him for any changes.”

Kadar waved in Altair’s direction vaguely. “Go,” he told Altair. “Go see him first.”

Altair grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, then nodded before following Dr. McCormac back into the ICU. Once alone, Kadar ran a hand down his face. He needed to call their parents again, even if they said they didn’t want to hear about Malik.

But not now. Later. Right now, he didn’t have the strenght to do anything but stare at the wall while he wondered about the future...


End file.
